Witches Bewitched
by Idrelle Miocovani
Summary: A mysterious potion Harry makes from the Half-Blood Prince's book gets loose at dinner, making every single witch at Hogwarts fall madly in love with the Boy Who Lived.
1. Prelude to Disaster

**A/N: **This was written for the House Cup tournament on the Jedi Council Boards. I was playing for Team Slytherin, naturally (and we won, BTW). Because the story became lengthy, I decided to split it into three parts for posting here on .

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**Witches Bewitched**

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**I. Prelude to Disaster**

Harry Potter was hiding in the last cubicle of the girls' toilets.

If this behaviour seemed at all suspicious, Harry would have liked to point out that it was not his fault that at all. He came to be hiding in the last cubicle of the girls' toilets not by choice, but by necessity. If it made his situation look any better, it was Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and thus Harry's male presence should not really matter since this toilet was consistently out of order.

He just hoped most people remembered that. If they did, he was safe until this disaster rode itself out. If they didn't, he was – to put it lightly – screwed. While he waited, his fate dependent on the memory banks of Hogwarts' female population, he rapidly leafed through his one and only weapon against this horde of incensed girls: the Half-Blood Prince's copy of _Advanced Potion-Making._ It was his only salvation if the girls found him. He could either a) brew up an antidote or b) hit them over the head with the textbook and make a run for it.

The slightest hint of sound echoed from the taps across the bathroom. Harry paused, one hand gripping the spine of the textbook. Slowly, he positioned himself carefully on the top of his cubicle's toilet so his feet were out of view. He paused, heart thumping wildly, and listened for any incoming sound that could herald the appearance of a fanatic female mob.

Nothing.

He exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Hello Harry!" a girl's voice said brightly.

Harry shrieked an ironically girly scream and fell off the toilet, crashing on to the cold, damp bathroom floor.

"Oh dear," Moaning Myrtle said. "Are you all right?"

***

_Three Hours Earlier._

It was Double Potions with Slughorn. As it was part way through term, Harry had settled into a comfortable routine and Potions was quickly becoming one of his favourite classes. It was the one he excelled at, by far – a strange turn of events, considering his Potions class in previous years. However, his skill at Potion-making had more to do with his specific copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _than any inherent talent, but Slughorn didn't know that and Harry was keen to keep it that way. Hermione could grumble under her breath as much as she could that Harry was cheating, but Harry simply maintained that he was only following different instructions than the rest of the class. He couldn't help it if the Prince was a better Potioneer than Libiatus Borage.

Today's lesson was one of Slughorn's "randoms", as the class had begun to call them. Slughorn gave them a randomizing spell, which chose a different potion from the textbook for each of them to make. They were instructed to brew him a sample and if he could tell what it was supposed to be, they would pass. Harry had the unfortunate luck of having his randomizing spell choose a potion whose instructions were so heavily corrected and changed that he himself didn't even know what it was. He could have compared page numbers with Ron and Hermione, but Hermione refused to tell him and Ron encouraged him to go for the adventure of a mystery potion. Harry resigned to the fact that he was going to have to brew this potion blindly, and started trying to decipher the Prince's cramped hand-writing.

By the end of the lesson, his potion was a swirling, pale lavender solution and was giving off the strange scent of broomsticks mixed with flowers. Odd combination, that…

"All right, time to pack up!" Slughorn announced. "Let's see what you've got! As most of you have finished your Potions, please bottle a sample and give it to me for marking."

Hermione's hair had curled into a frizzy halo exploding around her head. She had soot on the tip of her nose and she looked exhausted, but happy with the results of her bright blue potion. She quickly corked a sample and began to wordlessly clean up as Ron gouged the cement-like results of his potion out of his cauldron. She sniffed the air cautiously and eyed Harry's potion meticulously.

"What?" Harry said as he corked his own sample.

"Nothing," Hermione answered.

"Don't worry about her, Harry," Ron said quickly, "she's just sour that your Potion looks perfectly fine."

"No!" Hermione snapped back. "That's not it at all, Ron. I was just going to say that I'm not sure Harry should have followed the Prince's instructions on that one – his Potion looks nothing like the –"

"Shh!" Ron said, holding up a hand to stop her. "That's for Slughorn to figure out, not you."

Hermione glowered at him, turned on her heel and marched towards their professor.

"Yes, Miss Granger? What do you have for me today?"

She silently handed him her vial.

"Oho!" Slughorn's eyes lit up excitedly. "Yes, yes… I think I know what this is. Well done, Miss Granger. Now, let me see…" He scanned the shelves lining the dungeon. They were all filled. Slughorn's expression fell. "Erm… Class!" he called.

The clattering of packing up slowly came to a halt.

"If I could ask a small favour," Slughorn said. "As you may see from the shelf-space around you, I've run out of room for student samples… and I would hate to misplace any of your assignments. If you could keep your samples on you until the next lesson, that would be greatly appreciated. You are NEWT students! I trust you are capable of storing your own potions safely until I can mark them."

"Safe… right," Ron muttered as they packed up and left the classroom. "What's the bet that this bottle is going to get broken when I see Lavender in ten minutes –"

"If you're so worried about it, I don't see why you don't put it somewhere safe instead of waving it around like a buffoon," Hermione snapped. She glared at Ron and rushed away, stampeding up the stairs and out of the dungeons, taking the steps two at a time.

Ron gawked in her wake. "I really don't know what's gotten into her lately," he said. "She's gone bonkers! I mean, you're still carrying your own vial around, aren't you?"

Harry held up his lavender-coloured potion and waved it in Ron's face.

"Exactly!" Ron said. "So, what's the prob—"

"WON-WON!"

If Harry didn't know better, the problem was coming down the marble staircase with the speed of a stampeding Hippogriff. Lavender Brown had caught sight of them coming out of the dungeons and she was flying towards Ron with a single-mindedness reminiscent of a Blast-Ended Skrewt going for its dinner. Harry had to dive out of the way to avoid being trampled. As soon as he had time to regain his bearings, Harry saw that Ron had been engulfed by his girlfriend. He had dropped his bag and his textbooks, but somehow managed to keep a firm grip of his vial of grey, cement-like potion.

Harry stood awkwardly in the middle of the Entrance Hall. People were beginning to stare. He wasn't sure if he should keep going to wait for Ron to finishing being suffocated by Lavender. He had suffered more embarrassing things in his Hogwarts career, but that didn't stop him from wanting to hit Ron over the head with a cave troll's club.

"You know, you can always snog me if you're looking for something to do."

Harry turned and saw Romilda Vane standing a little too close for comfort, flashing a pearly white smile and tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder in such a way that it caught a shine from the light of the lanterns lining the hall.

"Err… no thanks. I'm fine, Romilda."

She giggled a high-pitched giggle that was so fake it could be used in a cheesy Muggle romantic comedy.

"Oh, I was only joking, Harry!" she said through her wide grin, her voice just loud enough so the entire school could hear her flirting with the Chosen One. She moved closer and patted his arm in an overly friendly manner.

Harry was very tempted to ask her where she took her acting classes and very much wanted to suggest a couple of bad Muggle films she could audition for.

"No, really," he said, more firmly this time. "I'm fine, Romilda."

Romilda laughed again, her smile never faltering once as her eyes darted behind Harry, past the still intertwined Ron ad Lavender, and took in the amount of people who were watching the proceedings. Unfortunately, it seemed like most of Hogwarts was watching, including several of the professors.

"Oh, you're so funny, Harry!" Romilda giggled. "Oooh, what have you got there?" Her eyes fell on his bag, which was slung haphazardly over his shoulder, and on the vial of potion still in his hand. "That's a lot of stuff to carry around," she continued without pause, "you must be _awfully_ strong—" She stepped forwards and tried to take his bag.

Harry backed away. "Really, Romilda, it's just class stuff – whoa!"

Romilda tripped (most likely purposefully) and fell forwards into him. Acting on reflex, Harry caught her.

"My hero!" she squealed, straightening herself and smiling broadly. "See you around, Harry!"

Romilda winked provocatively at him and pranced off, her closed fists raised in triumph as she went to rejoin her friends, who began shrieking with laughter when she reached them.

Harry straightened his bag and swore that he would never again try to be polite to Romilda Vane. He walked over to Ron and Lavender (who were still in their little Won-Won world) and dragged his best friend forcefully away.

"Let's go, Ron," Harry said. "Sorry, Lavender."

"Oi, Harry, mate—"

"Shut up, Ron."

They climbed the marble staircase, heading towards the library. Harry didn't want to run to risk of running into Romilda Vane in the common room. Ron was sour, because Hermione was most likely hiding in the library and he didn't want to have to speak to her.

"Look, you don't have to talk to Hermione, okay?" Harry said. "You don't have to say one word."

Ron grumbled something under his breath. He and Harry did not speak to each other again until they reached the library. Ron was too disgruntled with Harry for interrupting him and Lavender, whereas Harry was purely annoyed with Romilda Vane and her group of menacing little idiots. He was so frustrated that he didn't even realize that his vial filled with the mystery potion was gone.

***

"What is it?"

"Let me see!"

"I can't see! Let me closer!"

"No! This is _my_ spot!"

"Now, now, settle down, girls," Romilda Vane said. "Everyone will get a turn to look at it."

They were seated around her four-poster bed in the fourth-year Gryffindor girls' dormitory. Romilda was perched on her crimson and gold comforter, the vial of lavender potion clutched in her hand. Only fifteen minutes ago, she had given Harry Potter their first hug. Fifteen minutes from now, she was sure she would seal their first kiss. This was all thanks to the brilliance of sixth year Potions class, Harry Potter's potion-making skills, and her own superb charm, wit and beauty.

Now if only she could keep these little tramps quiet…

Romilda smiled pleasantly at the girls she ruled so well.

"What is it?" Natalie asked.

Romilda rolled her eyes. Natalie was such a dunderhead sometimes! At least she gave Romilda the opportunity to show who was boss around here.

"This, girls," Romilda said, holding up the vial, "is the ticket to our success."

They gasped. Natalie clapped her hands. Then she frowned.

"Why?" she said.

Romilda glared at her. "Natalie," she said imperiously, "ask another stupid question and you can go back to the first-year dorm."

Natalie blushed bright red and fell quiet.

"As I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted," Romilda said, "this here is something quiet special. It appears Harry Potter has been brewing love potions in class. This is a much higher calibre love potion than anything we could get out of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, so we must count ourselves very, very lucky. Harry Potter is truly magnificent to brew such a love potion!"

The girls gasped and applauded.

"Can I have some?" Agnes piped up.

"NO!" Romilda snapped. "There is only a small sample, and we must use it sparingly. I was going to add that I think that this love potion is unlike anything we've ever seen before—"

"Ooooh!"

"Harry Potter _makes_ up potions!" Kathleen exclaimed, bouncing up and down in her chair.

"That just proves he really is the Chosen One!" Joan added. She and Kathleen nearly tipped their chairs over giggling, which only caused them to laugh even more.

"Now we mustn't let us get ahead of ourselves," Romilda continued imperiously. She glared at Joan and Kathleen and they immediately stopped laughing. "We must give this potion a test run."

All of the girls shot their hands into the air.

"NO!" Romilda shouted. "I am the creator of the Harry Potter fan club! I am destined to date him! That means _I_ get to take the love potion!"

Natalie's bottom lip began to quiver.

"Oh, stop that," Romilda shot at it. "You're only eleven, he wouldn't date you even if he wanted to."

"You're mean!" Natalie wailed. She got up and ran from the room, crying uncontrollably.

Silence fell.

"Good riddance," Romilda sniffed. She uncorked the vial. "Now—"

"No!" Joan said, standing up. "Romilda, this isn't fair! We should all get a turn. Why do you always have to be first?"

Romilda stared at her. That was such a daft question!

"That's what I thought," Joan said. "You know, you're such a… such a…"

"Such a what, Joan?"

"SUCH A WITCH!" Joan's face was scarlet now. "There. I said it."

Romilda blinked. Slowly, she started to laugh. "Good one, Joanie," she said.

"_Don't_ call me 'Joanie,'" Joan grumbled.

"No, seriously, Joanie, that was a good one— HEY!"

Joan had leaped forwards and snatched the vial from Romilda's hand. In an act of pure defiance, she re-corked it and ran from the room, charging down the stairs to the common room. Romilda and the rest of the girls followed her, but when they reached the common room, Joan was nowhere to be seen.

"That's it," Romilda said. "Joan is _out."_


	2. Bewitchment is Served

**II. Bewitchment is Served**

Harry, Ron and Hermione ate their dinner in relative silence, each one of them distinctly annoyed with each other about something. Hermione was so put out that she was barely eating or drinking and was instead giving Harry and Ron a long speech that kept changing topics and neither of them could keep track of it.

"You know, Harry," Hermione was saying, "Slughorn's probably not going to be impressed with your potion. The Prince has finally let you down; it looks nothing like it should—"

"How do you know what it should look like?" Ron muttered, stabbing pieces of chicken furiously with his fork.

Hermione ignored him. "—maybe this will be your wake-up call to stop using that book."

"'Er-my-own-ee," Ron said, his mouth stuffed to the brim with chicken, "'ere's othin ong wit hat boo!"

Hermione glared at him. "I beg your pardon?" she said stiffly. Without waiting for a reply, she downed a large gulp of pumpkin juice.

Harry said nothing. He didn't want to reveal to Hermione that he was going to fail the assignment anyway. He had been an irresponsible NEWT student. He had already somehow managed to misplace his sample.

Like Ron, Harry was taking his frustrations out on his food. He speared a piece of chicken and shoved it in his mouth.

A peel of laughter rang out close to them. Harry looked to his right – a fourth-year Gryffindor (whose name he vaguely remembered was Joan), was apparently chuckling very hard at something. She was segregated from Romilda's usual gaggle of girls, but Joan didn't seem to care. She was slowly eating her meal; her goblet of pumpkin juice remained untouched. She turned to Harry and caught his eye; she winked.

There was a huge smirk on her face.

Harry turned back to his chicken. If he could have performed Legilimancy, he would have realized what that smirk meant. As it where, no one knew what that smirk meant because no one was paying any attention to Joan.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to his left, his fork still in his mouth. A fifth-year Hufflepuff girl he had never talked to before was looking at him with wide-brown eyes. Her face had gone bright red and she looked positively exhilarated.

"Wha'?" Harry said.

"Harry…" She was completely breathless now. "Will you go to Hogsmeade with me next time there's a Hogsmeade trip?"

Harry choked and spat out his fork, which clattered down on to the table. "What?!"

Ron's eyes had widened and he barked a laugh. "You have got to be kidding me…"

"Do I know you?" Harry said to the girl.

"No!" she answered brightly. "But _if_ you go to Hogsmeade with me—"

"Okay, okay, drop it," Ron said. "Harry's not dating anyone—"

"He can date me!"

Ron was standing now and was working on escorting the girl away from the Gryffindor table. "He's especially not dating you, so if you could just—"

The girl glared at Ron and marched away, her nose stuck in the air.

Ron came back to the table and sat down. "Phew… what was with the Romilda Vane impersonation?"

"I honestly don't know," Harry said. "That was really strange."

He and Ron both turned to Hermione, expecting her to give them a possible solution. She was looking at Harry thoughtfully, her eyes slightly glazed over. She said nothing.

"Hermione?" Ron said.

Hermione didn't answer.

"Hermione?"

He poked her shoulder, but she continued to stare dreamily at Harry. Ron waved a hand in front of Hermione's face. Suddenly, she snapped out of it.

"Ron, don't do that!"

"You were spacing out," Ron said, sitting down.

The shadow of the dreamy look returned to her face. "I was, wasn't I?" She turned back to Harry and batted her eyelashes at him.

Ron and Harry traded looks. This was getting very strange indeed.

"I'm going to go now," Harry said, getting up.

"Oh, no! Harry, please stay for a bit!" Hermione said, seizing his hand.

"Ah… no. I'm going to go."

"Harry—" she twirled a strand of hair around a finger, making it curlier than ever – "please stay? As a favour to an old friend?"

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said quickly, backing away from her. "I have to go… to Quidditch practice!" He turned and tried to flee, but ran directly into Romilda Vane.

"Harry!" she said, flashing him her pearly white smile.

"No," he said automatically and sprinted down the Great Hall to the exit. Ron followed him.

"Harry!" he shouted as Harry burst into the Entrance Hall, panting. "Every single girl in there was looking at you! It's kind of creepy!"

"Not now, Ron!" Harry said. He paused and straightened. "Wait – what did you say?"

"All the girls in the hall," Ron said. "They all turned and looked at you as you ran out."

"What?"

Harry approached the Great Hall doors and pulled them open. He stuck his head into the hall; every single girl at Hogwarts stared back at him. Harry let the doors slam shut.

"Something is really, really wrong about that," he said.

"Yeah, no kidding!" Ron agreed. "I know you're the centre of attention some times, but this is just plain freaky."

"Harry! Yoo-hoo!"

Harry and Ron turned around and looked up at the marble staircase for the second time that day. Lavender was once again standing there, but this time her eyes were on Harry rather than Ron.

Ron raised a hand in greeting. "Lav!" he called.

His girlfriend didn't appear to even hear him as she pranced down the stairs, ran across the hall and flung herself into Harry's arms. Ron gawked as Lavender cried, "Hair-Hair!" at the top of her lungs and planted a most unwelcome kiss on Harry's lips.

Harry pushed her away, staring at her. "Um, Lavender, I think you have the wrong person," he said.

Her eyes widened. "What? No!"

Harry pointed at Ron. _"That's_ your boyfriend. Won-Won and all that, remember?"

Lavender stared at him blankly. "But I don't love him! I love you!"

"Are you all right in the head?" Ron blurted.

Lavender ignored him. "Harry—"

"No," Harry said. He turned and charged up the marble staircase, Ron trailing after him. Lavender's wails of protest echoed after them, but they remained ignored.

The boys eventually came to rest somewhere on the third floor in an empty corridor, panting for breath from sprinting.

"Something really weird is going on here," Ron said.

"You're telling me!" Harry exclaimed. "I just got called 'Hair-Hair'!"

Ron burst out laughing.

"Now you know how stupid 'Won-Won' sounds," Harry snapped.

Ron immediately stopped laughing. "Yeah… but I was already thinking that it sounded stupid…"

"What are we going to do?"

"About what?"

"Ron," Harry said flatly, "in case you didn't notice, I just got hit on by three different girls today and Hermione was acting pretty sketchy herself. Something is up."

"Yeah," Ron said, "or else everyone has started going delusional. You know, it was bound to happen one day—"

"You're not helping," Harry interrupted.

"No, I'm not," Ron said. "Okay… so the girls started acting funny at dinner."

"Yeah," Harry said sarcastically, "I'd say that they did! As if you…" Harry's voice trailed off as an idea dawned on him. "Oh."

"What?" Ron said, folding his arms.

"Hermione started acting all funny after she drank the pumpkin juice," Harry said. He was pacing up and down the hall now, trying to come up with a reason for the strange changes in behaviour.

"You think someone spiked the pumpkin juice with love potion?"

"Maybe!"

Ron frowned. "How would you even be able to spike _all_ of the girls' pumpkin juice with love potion?"

"I don't know, maybe the love potion only works on girls! Could be we've all been drinking it—"

Ron gasped and suddenly went crossed-eyed. "Oh no! I think I'm… I think I'm in love with you!"

Harry glared at Ron.

Ron grinned at Harry.

Harry continued to glare at Ron.

Slowly, Ron's grin disappeared. "Yeah… sorry. That wasn't very funny, was it?"

Harry shook his head. "Not particularly. But if Malfoy suddenly starts fawning all over me, then I'll kill myself and come back to haunt you. Come on, we should check the library to see if there's a way to reverse this."

Ron grumbled. "Now you sound exactly like Hermione."

They had no difficulty getting to the library as it seemed most students were still at dinner. Harry was thankful for this, as he didn't think he could stand any more chance meetings with girls who thought they were in love with him.

The library itself was empty when they reached it.

"So, where do we look?" Ron asked.

"I don't know!" Harry said. "This is Hermione's area… let's split up, we'll get through more books that way. Look at anything that has to do with love potions or spells. Hopefully we can get things sorted before this gets any crazier."

"Right."

They went off to opposite ends of the library and began searching. Harry was still trying to figure out how this could have happened. What was different about today? He had made a mystery potion and had an encounter with Romilda Vane…

Was that it? Was this something to do with Romilda Vane and the potion he had made and managed to misplace, or would that be too coincidental? Harry was starting to think that she had taken it off him and was the one who had started the whole thing. It seemed like a thing she would be capable of pulling off…

What if the Prince had re-formatted one of the potions in the book to create a love potion more powerful than even Amortentia? That seemed like something he would do… if only Harry had his copy on him right now, he could go over it again. Unfortunately, the book was all the way back in his dorm in the Gryffindor common room, which was no doubt filling up with wild girls who thought they loved him and would pounce on him the moment he stuck his head through the portrait hole –

"Hi, Harry."

Hermione stepped around from behind a bookcase. She was positively glowing as she gave him a small, coy smile.

"Uh… hi, Hermione," Harry said cautiously.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you looking like that?"

"Looking… looking like what?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Like… that!" She waved a hand. "And you're never in the library at this time!"

Typical Hermione. She was obviously back to normal.

"I'm looking for antidotes to love potions," Harry explained. "You've got to have noticed that something weird is happening to—"

"To the girls? Yeah, I noticed." Hermione gently took his hand. "I'll help you set things right."

"Thanks, Hermione, you're a real life saver—"

"Harry, I'm your friend," Hermione said. "You know I'd do anything for you." She stepped forwards and hugged him tightly.

"Uh, thanks, Hermione," Harry said, awkwardly patting her on the back.

"You can trust me."

"I do."

Hermione kissed him on the cheek and drew back. There was an impish look in her eyes.

_Oh, no._

"Ron!" Harry called into the depths of the library, searching desperately for him before he ended up in a situation that he _really_ wanted to avoid. This was _Hermione, _of all people…

He felt the light pressure of Hermione's hand on the side of his face. He turned back to look at her. She pressed a finger to his lips.

"Shhh," she said. "It's just us—"

"Um, Hermione, you do realize—"

"What?" she said, batting her eyelashes. "That I love you? Yes, Harry! I only just thought of it! But I now know that I've loved you for six years, ever since you saved me from that troll. Kiss me, Harry! Please! Just this once—"

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Harry said, trying to push her away as she attempted to stroke his hair.

Hermione wasn't an easy person to get rid of.

"Why not?" she whispered throatily. "I think it's a good idea and all my ideas are spectacular—"

"Hermione, you've taken love potion," Harry said, catching hold of her hands and keeping a tight grip on them before they went somewhere he didn't want them to go. "By accident. You're not thinking rationally—"

"Harry, I'm the most rational person in the world!"

"Yes," Harry agreed, "yes, you are, and the Hermione I know would never, ever admit to that. So let's just… um… sit down, here. Look, there's a chair—"

In a completely un-Hermione move, she pushed him backwards into the chair and flung herself at him in an almost predator-like fashion. Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him fervently. Harry winced and shuddered; this was one step too weird. He tried to throw her off of him, but she was a lot stronger than he expected and her lips remained glued to his.

"_Stupefy!"_

Hermione stopped moving. She became limp in Harry's arms and he gently set her down on the floor. Ron came out of the shadows of the library, his face pale.

"Okay, that was one thing I really, really did not need to see," he said.

"That was one thing I really, really didn't need to have happen," Harry added.

Ron nodded vigorously. "Yep." He glanced down at Hermione's unconscious form. Her brown eyes were wide open. "Will she be all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "We've been Stunned dozens of times before; she'll be fine."

Ron nodded curtly. "I didn't find anything."

"Neither did I," Harry said. "At least, not before she…" He trailed off. "I think all three of us will need our memories wiped by Madam Pomfrey after this is over."

"No kidding," Ron said. "What's next? Do we keep looking?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think the antidote is going to be in any of these books. I've got a hunch that the potion that spiked the pumpkin juice was the one I made in class today."

"How'd you figure that one out?"

"I said I had a hunch!" Harry said. "I don't know what I made, but I wouldn't put it past the Prince to come up with a love potion capable of intoxicating the whole female student body… and Romilda Vane definitely swiped it from me this afternoon."

"Romilda who?"

Harry sighed. "Come on, Ron, she's been stalking me ever since school started."

"Oh, right. _Her."_

"If you could stop snogging Lavender once in a while, you might notice these things."

"Oi! I'm happy for once! I'm not living in _your_ famous shadow anymore!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? Oh, never mind!" he added abruptly as Ron opened his mouth to speak. "Look, I think it's one of the Prince's potions, which means I need my book, which is in the Gryffindor common room—"

"Which is the last place you want to go," Ron finished. "Romilda Vane will be there, I get it."

"Yeah. Public places are kind of out for me right now," Harry said.

"So you want me to go and get it for you."

"Please?"

Ron paused. "All right, fine."

"Thanks.

"You owe me, Harry."

Harry nodded. "I don't think I should stay here in case anyone else comes into the library," he said. "I'll be in the One-Eyed Witch passageway. No one knows about it except for us, I should be fine there."

"Yeah." Ron looked down at the floor. "What about Hermione? Will she be all right?"

Harry caught Ron's anxious expression. "She should be fine," he said after a pause. "We can't really do anything else but leave her there and hope she won't be too mad with us when she wakes up."

Ron grunted. "Well, I can always say that it was payback for putting those birds on me," he said.

Harry and Ron left the library a different times, as chances were some of the girls would try to find Ron in an attempt to find Harry. While Ron hurried off towards the Gryffindor common room, Harry headed off to the secret passageway. He tried to keep to the shadows as much as possible and ended up flattening himself against a wall or hiding behind a suit of armour many times whenever someone came around a corner.

It soon became very evident that every single girl in the school was on the prowl that evening for Harry Potter – even the Slytherins. Many of them travelled in packs, fighting and arguing about who would get to kiss him first. The few boys who were among them were being dragged against their will to help the girls in their search.

Harry was feeling incredibly odd. He had had many strange things happen to him, but this was an all-time low.

More than once, he was almost spotted by a girl, but he managed to get to the passageway's corridor without too many problems. He flew out from behind a suit of armour, stampeded down the hallway and skidded to a halt in front of the statue. He looked around to make sure no one had followed him, tapped the witch's hump and said, _"Dissendium!"_ It swung open and he threw himself into the passage.

Once it closed behind him, he sighed with relief.

Two minutes later, it opened again and Harry stared, panicking, into a pair of brown eyes framed with red hair.

"Hi, Harry."

Harry swallowed. He had been found by Ginny Weasley.

The problem was he didn't know how he felt about it.


	3. Sick of Love

**III. Sick of Love**

Ron felt that Harry owed him big time for this. When he reached the Gryffindor common room, he had nearly been mobbed seven or eight times by packs of girls who evidently thought he was hiding Harry behind his lanky frame. A couple of them had _thought_ he was Harry, until they got close enough to realize that he had red hair, freckles and no lightning scar.

That was then they spat in his face and performed rather scary temper tantrums.

The worst came when Ron went through the portrait hole. What seemed like every single Gryffindor girl was waiting for him. As soon as he appeared, they all began screeching at him.

"HARRY POTTER'S BEST FRIEND! LOOK!"

"WHERE HE IS? TELL US WHERE HARRY IS!"

"I'LL PAY YOU FIVE GALLEONS IF YOU TELL ME WHERE HARRY IS!"

Ron didn't reply and tried to shove his way through the crowd, but he was stopped by an in-coming Romilda Vane, who practically tackled him to the ground.

"Where's Harry, Ron?" she said, grinning like a madwoman.

"Gerroff!" Ron struggled to his feet. "I don't know, okay? Look for him yourself, if you're so desperate."

"I want Harry, Ron," Romilda said. "And I _will_ get him, mark my words."

"They're marked," Ron said. "Now move it, or you will _never_ get Harry."

Romilda crossed her arms and glared at Ron.

Ron glared back at Romilda.

Finally, Romilda gave up. She threw her arms up in the air and sauntered to the side. As Ron rushed by her and towards the boys' dormitories, Romilda pointed a finger at him and shouted across the room, "You better give me Harry, Ronald Weasley, or I will make your life living hell!"

"And I'll give you a detention!" Ron shouted back. He was jostled by several more girls and tripped on his way up the staircase. He dashed up the stairs, his ears ringing from their screams and yells, and reached the door to his dorm.

It was the most scarred door Ron had ever seen. Everything from scratches, dents and burn-marks covered it from top to bottom. It was also locked.

Ron sighed with frustration. _"Alohomora!"_

It still did not open.

Ron banged on the door. "Guys! Let me in!"

There was no answer.

"Seamus!" Ron shouted. "Dean! Neville! Let me in right now!"

"… Are there any girls with you?" Neville's voice said through the door.

"No!"

The door slowly creaked open a gap. Neville's hand appeared around the door and yanked Ron inside. Quickly, he sealed the door shut and breathed a sigh of relief.

Dean and Seamus were sitting on their beds, sorting through various objects that looked like they were a good size and weight to be thrown at someone's head.

"What's with the door thing?" Ron asked, standing in the middle of the room.

"We need to get them to change the rules," Neville said. "Boys aren't allowed into the girls dormitories, but they can come up here as much as they please."

"After dinner, they all thought Harry was hiding up here," Dean said.

"You should have seen them!" Seamus exclaimed. "Trying to force their way in here like… like… Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts! Scary, it was. Believe me."

"So we sealed the door," Neville said. "They started complaining and throwing things at it. Someone tried to set it on fire, but eventually the other two male prefects got everything settled down… until they got sent to the hospital wing, that is."

"I'm not surprised," Ron said.

"Those girls, they've gone mad!" Seamus said.

"They're like a pack of hyenas," Dean added.

"They almost trampled Professor Flitwick," Neville said, his face pale. "He's in the hospital wing."

"Okay, this is officially crazy," Ron said as he walked over to Harry's bed and began trying to find the Prince's book. "If Fred and George were still here, I'd blame it on them, but…"

"What are you doing?" Neville asked.

"It's a love potion gone wrong," Ron said. "At least, Harry thinks so. He wants his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making._ I've got to get it to him."

"You're not going back out there, are you?!" Dean exclaimed. "That's insane, mate!"

"I know," Ron said, digging through Harry's school supplies. "But otherwise these girls are going to end up tearing each other to pieces. Or me. Or Harry. Whichever comes first." He paused when he came across the Invisibility Cloak. Quickly, he seized it and continued searching for the book.

"Malfoy," Neville said.

"What?" Ron asked, throwing the Cloak aside as he picked up the Prince's book.

"Malfoy!" Neville repeated. "Don't you think he could be behind this? Clever scheme to distract everyone… no?"

Ron shook his head. "No," he said, stuffing the Cloak under his arm and the putting the book in his opposite hand. "This kind of thing doesn't have Malfoy stamped all over it. This kind of crazy thing has 'crazy girl' stamped all over it." He walked to the door. "Wish me luck."

"I think we should pray for him," Neville said as Ron shut the door to the dormitory.

"Brave man," Dean said.

"Yep," Seamus added, nodding in agreement. "Let's hear it for Ron Weasley, the boy who dared to face an angry mob of girls. If they get him, may he rest in peace."

***

"_Lumos,"_ Ginny said.

With the witch's hump closed, it was dark in the passageway. This way she and Harry could see each other fairly well. She was smiling widely in a way that reminded Harry of Romilda Vane's smile earlier in the day, but there was something different about Ginny's smile… it was honest. It was genuine.

In this evening of fake love, Harry rather appreciated it.

"I have something to say, Harry," she said as she tossed her long red hair over her shoulder.

"Go for it." His mouth was strangely dry. That was weird.

"A lot of girls seem to have fallen madly in love with you today," Ginny said.

"Yeah… I noticed."

She stepped a bit closer. "Would you mind terribly if I said I was one of them?"

"Erm… what would you like me to say?"

They were very close together now. Harry caught the scent of flowers and suddenly realized that it was Ginny's hair he was smelling. She clasped her hands around his neck and grinned at him.

"Say whatever you want," she said. "Just know that I am terribly in love with you, Harry, and it's taken today to get me to say it. You know, I've dated a lot of other guys, but I never really did get over that crush I had on you back in my first year."

"Oh."

Was he blushing? Were you supposed to be blushing in these kinds of situations?

Harry was trying to remind himself that Ginny was speaking through a love potion, but part of him – a very large part of him – found that he was keen to ignore that fact. Just like he was keen to ignore the fact that Ginny was dating Dean… and the fact that she was Ron's brother…

Would Ron mind terribly if he kissed Ginny right now?

Probably.

Was it worth the risk?

Absolutely.

"Harry?"

"Wha—yes?"

"You're staring off into space."

"Oh. Yeah. I suppose I was."

Ginny laughed. _"Nox!"_

The light went out, plunging them into darkness. Suddenly, Ginny was pressing her lips to his. She was kissing him passionately and he was kissing her back. Harry couldn't think – it was as if his mind had been wiped blank. It was just him and Ginny, kissing, here in the darkness and privacy of the One Eyed Witch's passageway. No screaming girls chasing him, no screeching girls getting in his way, just him and Ginny Weasley… Was this heaven on earth?

"I love you," Ginny breathed and kissed him again.

Harry couldn't think of an appropriate reply for that. His mind was too fogged up.

They had no sense of time here in the darkness. It was just the two of them, in the moment. A moment that should never pass, could never pass, could never be interrupted –

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

Light burst into the passageway as the witch's hump opened. Ron appeared out of nowhere, Invisibility Cloak and textbook in hand, his face bright scarlet. He was openly glaring between Ginny and Harry, his eyes furious.

Harry and Ginny jumped apart.

"Ron, look—"

"If you're going to say sorry," Ron said, "sorry's not going to cut it!"

"Ron," Ginny began.

"Oh, shut up for once, would you, Ginny?" Ron snapped. "No one kisses my little sister! Especially not in front of me!"

"Then go away," Ginny said immediately, her hand seizing Harry's.

Ron merely glared at her and did not grace her with a reply. "You know she's under a love potion!" Ron shouted. "You shouldn't have! I nearly got mauled because of you and I don't want to come back and find you… you…" He stopped speaking, he was too furious for words.

"Ron, I didn't mean—" Harry broke off. "She kissed me first!"

Even as he said it, it sounded ridiculous.

Ron burst into a strange kind of laughter. "Yeah, right, 'course she did. That's not the problem. You were enjoying that!" Ron threw the Prince's copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ at Harry. It hit him squarely on the nose.

"Ow!"

"Serve you right!" Ron shouted, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over himself and disappearing. "You're on your own, mate!"

Ron's disembodied footsteps thundered away.

"Ron, wait!" Harry rushed after him. "I can explain!"

Ginny caught his arm. "Harry, he's not going to listen to you. He's just upset." She kissed his cheek. "He'll come around in a bit."

Harry turned to Ginny. "No, he's right. I shouldn't have… I'm sorry, Ginny. I shouldn't have kissed you when you're like this."

She blinked. "Like what?"

"Oh… never mind." Harry looked down at the Prince's book in his hand. It had a bright red stain on it. Harry put a hand to his nose and drew it away. It, too, was stained with blood.

"Erm… Ginny, how does my nose look?"

She smiled. "Like it's bleeding."

_That's helpful,_ Harry thought sarcastically. "Okay, I better go clean this up."

"I can do that—"

"No, really," Harry said, focusing on getting himself away from her as quickly as possible. "I can do it myself."

"All right, then," Ginny said. She didn't look as happy now.

"I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

Her expression brightened. "Okay!"

"Right."

Harry dashed away before Ginny had a chance to follow him. He needed a new place to hide, but he wasn't sure where he could go. Ron had the Invisibility Cloak and Ginny finding him in the secret passage only proved that nowhere was safe from these crazed girls…

Harry hurtled down a staircase and almost ran over Professor Trelawney. She was shuffling a deck of tarot cards, which went flying in spirals as Harry banged into her.

"Sorry, Professor!" Harry said as he went flying by her.

He came to a skidding halt on the stairs as Trelawney's thin hands caught hold of his arm. "Harry, my dear," she said, her insect eyes bulging behind her glasses.

_No way,_ Harry thought.

"No," he said immediately.

Trelawney waved a card in his face. "It is destiny, my dear!" she said, her voice going up several octaves. "Destiny! It is in the cards that we are meant to be together!"

Harry stared at the tarot card in her hand: it was emblazoned with the image of the Lovers.

"Uh. No," he said and immediately turned and fled.

This was getting very bad if teachers were beginning to seek him out. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he ran into Professor McGonagall.

Harry flew around a corner and immediately skidded to a halt. A pack of what looked like every single Slytherin girl in Hogwarts was lined from wall to wall in front of him. At its head was Pansy Parkinson.

"Potter!" she called. "I've always wanted to tell you this—"

"No thanks!" Harry shouted.

"I LOVE YOU!" Pansy screamed.

Harry fled. It wasn't every day that you had Pansy Parkinson tell you that she loved you. He hoped to never repeat the experience.

"AFTER HIM! DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!"

That was the start of the female side of Slytherin House hunting down Harry Potter.

Harry ran. He didn't know where to go, but he knew that if he stopped running, they would catch up with him and he really didn't want to think about what would happen then. Hogwarts had gone insane. Hogwarts was bewitched and no one could control it now. Everything was turned upside down. No wonder the teachers couldn't put things right, not went half the school and half the teaching staff was incensed with a very unhealthy and creepy fanatic love for him.

When Harry turned a corner and saw the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he was panting and gasping for breath. A stitch had formed in his side and he was in quite a bit of pain, partly from his nose and mostly from being chased all over the school. Knowing that it may be his last chance, he pushed past the "out-of-order" sign on the door to the girls' toilets and flew down the rows of cubicles to the last stall, where he hid and began to frantically search the Prince's book for a way out of this mess.

He was working on finding it when Moaning Myrtle slid through the door to Harry's stall. That was when Harry fell off the toilet and landed on the cold, hard, wet floor and added being soaked and bruised to the list of things he had accomplished tonight.

"No, I am not all right, Myrtle," Harry said, answering the ghost's question. He straightened up and sat back on the toilet.

"You look absolutely dreadful," Myrtle said with relish.

"Thanks, I guess," Harry said. "Listen, Myrtle, can you keep your voice down?"

"Ooh, are you going to tell me a secret?" Myrtle said as her eyebrows went up.

"Sure."

"What is it? I'm very good at keeping secrets, Harry! I'll never tell a soul!"

"Well, this isn't quite a secret… more like a story."

"OH." Myrtle frowned. Her bottom-lip quivered.

"No, don't cry!" Harry said hastily. "It's a good story!"

"You don't think I'm trustworthy!"

"No, Myrtle, I do! I just don't have any secrets to tell! I'm trying to hide!"

"Oooh…" Her interest came back. "From what?"

Harry sighed. "A mob of angry girls."

Myrtle folded her arms. "What have you done now?"

"Nothing!" Harry answered. "I'm completely innocent! They drank pumpkin juice spiked with love potion and now they all think they're in love with me."

Myrtle's cheeks shone bright silver. "That's not hard to do…"

Harry hit his forehead with his palm. "Okay, okay… Myrtle, I didn't need to hear that, but… can you do me a favour?"

"Anything, Harry," Myrtle said happily.

"Can you flood your bathroom so no one comes in here?"

Myrtle's eyes narrowed. "Why should I do that?"

"Because you're always flooding your bathroom?"

Myrtle snorted. "Oh, you think you're so great! I'm such a _great_ pal of yours, Harry, you think you can waltz in any time a bunch of girls try to hunt you down and get me to flood my bathroom just for you! Well, guess what, it doesn't work like that! You have to do something in return!"

"Myrtle, you said that you would do anything for me!"

"That's not the point!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"_That's not the point!"_ Myrtle hissed.

Harry sighed. He was tired of arguing with a depressed ghost. "Okay, okay… fine. What do you want?"

Myrtle blushed silver again. "A kiss."

Harry's shoulders sagged. "Not you too!" he groaned.

"It's a kiss or no flooded bathroom!"

"Okay, all right, all right," Harry said, climbing off of the toilet. "Kiss me and flood your bathroom. Just make sure those girls don't find me."

Myrtle giggled, floating up to the ceiling. She swooped around her bathroom, doing a couple of laps, before flying back down to claim her kiss. She attempted to press her transparent lips to Harry's, but only really managed to float straight through him. Harry shivered as every hair on the back of his neck stood on end – it was extremely uncomfortable to have a ghost pass through you. For Myrtle's sake, he tried not to let the discomfort show on his face.

Before Harry knew it, Myrtle was bobbing around on the ceiling, blushing silver. She looked incredibly happy.

"Thanks, Harry!" she said.

"Okay," Harry answered. "You're welcome. Can you flood your bathroom now?"

"Sure thing!"

She let off a high-pitched, screeching wail and suddenly all of the taps turned on. Water began sloshing everywhere. Harry felt like he was standing in the middle of a monsoon. Geysers of water shot out of every available spot, including the toilets. Streams and rivers began to form on the bathroom floor. Soon Harry was standing in three-inch deep water.

Myrtle was wailing and screeching at the top of her voice as she floated in figure eights around the ceiling. It was quite the performance. When several girls poked their heads inside the bathroom, they immediately recoiled, claiming that Harry could not possibly be hiding in there.

In his cubicle, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Raising his head, he looked up at Myrtle, who winked.

"Thanks," Harry said appreciatively.

Now there was nothing to do but wait until the effects of the potion wore off.

Harry ended up spending the night in Myrtle's flooded bathroom. When morning came and he stumbled out of the girls' toilets, soaked to the bone and starving, he received many odd looks in the hall as he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Everything was back to normal – for the most part. The Hogwarts student body was considering as a whole getting their memories of the event wiped. The staff was particularly embarrassed, especially Professor Trelawney. Pansy Parkinson could not believe she ever shouted to the whole world that she loved Harry Potter, and Romilda Vane entered a period of depression because she couldn't manage to kiss Harry even under the effects of love potion.

Lavender continued to glare at Harry for several weeks after the event (as if her kissing him was entirely his fault), and told anyone who would listen that she never had any feelings for Harry and that Ron was her One True Love. Harry apologized profusely to Ron for kissing Ginny. For her part, Ginny was trying to remind Ron that anything that occurred under the effects of love potion did not count and therefore Ron had nothing to be angry about. Hermione, meanwhile, couldn't stop going red in the face for a week whenever she was around Harry. Harry eventually told her that it wasn't her fault, but that didn't stop her from feeling very embarrassed.

Joan the fourth-year Gryffindor continued to have a knowing smirk on her face, one that could quite possibly last the rest of term. If Harry had decided to try to search for his vanished potion sample, he would have found its vial stored, as a souvenir, at the bottom of Joan's trunk.

The Hogwarts staff was left quite perplexed as to how the event had even occurred. Professor Slughorn was the only one who had anything to say about it. The evening afterwards, he announced during dinner: "That was a mighty fine love potion."

Professor Snape was the only teacher who reacted to that comment. The glare he shot at Slughorn would have struck fear into the bravest Auror. Unfortunately, Harry didn't even notice Snape's reaction because he was too busy thinking of the Half-Blood Prince.

_Who the hell comes up with such a stupid love potion?_

With that thought, Harry swore that if he was going to stay away from love potions for the rest of his life.

_fin_

**Thank you for reading, everyone!**_  
_


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